


'Til I Hear It From You

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Empire Records AU, Multi, Riverparents, did i just make the first oscar andrews tag on here??? for one scene lmfao, everyone in this is bi as hell so jot that down, everyone will show up dont worry, i also dont know what the hell im doing so, just know its there, lets go on this adventure together, parentdale, tagging as I go along, whether or not i say it or explore it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: The parentdale empire records au nobody asked for





	1. Can't Stop Losing Myself

**Author's Note:**

> If you've seen iconic mid 90's comedy Empire Records then you already know what this is about. If you haven't... go watch it? It's amazing? Also full disclosure: I don't know how to play craps an my understanding of it is very minimal so let's just be kind to me with that part k thanks. Title of the fic is from the Gin Blossoms song (very important to the film if you haven't seen) and chapter title is from Can't Stop Losing Myself by the Dirt Clods. Ok... enjoy!

“Pop, you back here?” Hermione was calling as she made her way to the back room of Pop’s Record Shop. It was just a few minutes till closing and she was heading home for the night, presumably the last person in the store outside of the owner himself. “I’m going home. Good- oh,” Hermione stopped herself as she walked through the door and spotted one of her coworkers instead of her boss. “Alice. What are you doing here?”

The blonde looked up from her spot on the couch, a pensive look on her face. “I’ve been delegated the chief task of closing the store tonight.”

“Pop is trusting you to close the store? To handle his money?” Hermione asked incredulously. 

“Yes. All I have to do is count it twice, zip it up in the bag, take it to the bank, and deposit it.”

“How ever will you manage to handle such a huge responsibility?” Hermione’s voice was dripping in sarcasm. Alice responded by raising her middle finger. “Right. Well, I’m going home. Try not to fuck up,” she finished in a sing-song voice as she slipped out the door. 

\--

Alice had just finished counting up the cash for the second time that night when she heard knocking at the front door. It was well past closing. The sign on the door was up. No one should be expecting to be let in. 

She was hoping if she just ignored it they would go away, but once it became clear she wouldn’t be so lucky she huffed out a breath and got up from the desk, making her way to the front of the store.

“We’re closed!” Alice called out to the stranger on the other side of the door. Admittedly, she was attractive. If Alice had to hazard a guess she’d say the woman was just a few years older than herself, mid 20’s at the most, with waves of cascading blonde hair just a few shades darker than her own falling over her shoulders. She looked like she had gotten dressed in a rush, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. There were definitely worse people to come banging on the door at 10 pm.

“Please! I’ll just stay for a few minutes.” Her voice was like honey. It was drawing Alice in. But no. She had to stand firm.

“I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to let anyone in.”

“Just a couple of minutes. Please…” The woman dropped her voice just a smidge lower but it was enough to have an affect. Alice would like to think she had a stronger resolve, and maybe this was only because she had been sitting alone for the past hour counting someone else’s money and was looking for some type of distraction, but she found herself giving in and unlocking the door.

“Okay. Fine. But only for a few minutes.” She steps aside to let the woman in and is greeted with a Thank you and a quick kiss on the cheek. Alice tries to ignore the way her skin warms up in response, pretends she’s not blatantly staring at the beautiful patron as she walks down one of the aisles of CD’s and stretches her arms above her head and exposes a sliver of midriff. She quickly pulls herself out of whatever daydream she was having and moves to catch up with the pretty blonde. “You know, you really have to get going, I shouldn’t be-”

“You ever feel claustrophobic in your own house?”

That stops Alice, if only for a second. “What? I… I guess. Ma’am, you really have to-”

“Like, you’ll just be laying in your bed and out of nowhere you’ll feel so trapped you can hardly breathe?” 

Alice was entirely too familiar with that feeling, but she didn’t think now was the time to discuss it. Right now she had to focus on following this lady up and down aisles to try and convince her to leave. “Yeah, sure, but-”

The woman turned abruptly to face Alice, her hair whipping in such a way that it allowed Alice to get a whiff of her shampoo. Strawberry. Yummy. “I was supposed to get out of here, ya know? Become a big Broadway star. Really make a name for myself. I’ve got moves, ya know?” She then opened up her jacket and shimmied as if that was demonstration enough. For Alice, it was. 

“Oh, well, I’m sure you still can. You’re young. There’s still time.”

The woman’s eyes got dark then, like she was harboring some secret sadness. “You ever think maybe it can be too late to change the course of your future?”

“I think it’s better to at least try and fail than to live a life of regrets and what-ifs.”

The stranger smiled, gave Alice a onceover. Alice’s breath hitched. She hoped it went unnoticed. “You might be onto something there, blondie.” Alice smiles. They lock eyes for a moment. “Well, I better get going. Wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble because of little ol’ me.”

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Suddenly Alice is hesitant to see her go. 

The stranger smiles politely, perhaps even a little flirtatiously, Alice can’t help but think to herself.. “I think I got everything I came for. Thanks, doll.” She reaches out and hooks a finger under Alice’s chin, gives her a wink before heading back towards the front door. She opens it and pauses, turns around to give Alice one last glance. “It’s never too late to change things, right?” And then she’s gone.

Alice lingers behind the glass when she goes to lock up for hopefully what will be the final time that night, though there’s a part of her that wishes her late night companion will come back. It was a strange interaction, sure, but she won’t dwell too much on that. She sighs, runs a hand through her hair and heads back to the office to finish up her shift. 

She’s rummaging through Pop’s desk drawer trying to find the bag to seal with cash in when she finds it. “What the hell…” She whispers to herself, pulling out a small stack of legal documents. She shouldn’t be doing this. It’s an invasion of privacy, but she can’t ignore the giant MUSIC TOWN logo up top, and, well, she’s nosy. 

She skims through the front page. It’s a lot of legal jargon, but from what she can gather it looks like some type of agreement to sell the business. She flips through a couple of pages and finds a mock-up of what would be the new store. A Music Town. A big corporate fuckfest completely devoid of all the charm Pop’s had. It didn’t make any sense. Pop loved this place. They all did. She hadn’t remembered hearing anything about financial woes or other troubles, but then again she wouldn’t have. Pop was private, and he didn’t want people to worry. He was probably waiting around till the last possible second to spring this news on them. 

But this just couldn’t stand. Selfishly Alice didn’t want to see this place go because it was one of the rare few places she felt safe. It was more of a home to her than the place she actually slept in every night. Unselfishly… she knew what this place meant to Pop. To everyone else who worked here. To everyone who shopped here, perusing the aisles upon aisles of music looking for an escape. 

Something had to be done.

She looked at the stack of cash in front of her. She had counted it twice. Nine thousand one hundred and four dollars exactly. The wheels in her head started spinning. Atlantic City wasn’t that far away. She could double, maybe even triple the money in a night, make enough to buy the store back from those greedy corporate assholes. 

She grabbed the stack, placed it in the inner pocket of her jacket, and went to double check she had locked all the doors and shut off the lights. Walking out the back door, she headed straight to her bike. She took one last look at the building, whispered to herself “It’s never too late to change things,” and placed her helmet on her head before kick starting the motorcycle and speeding off towards America’s playground.

\--

There was no particular casino Alice had in mind. It wasn’t like she did a lot of gambling in her spare time. She wasn’t exactly old enough to be partaking in such activities legally, but some flirting and an impeccable fake ID helped her bypass that little problem.

Maybe she should’ve put more thought into a game to risk all the money on, but the theme of the night was spontaneity, and she was feeling good. Luck was going to be on her side tonight. She could feel it.

That feeling was validated when she walked over to the first table she saw (craps) and set the stack of cash down on the table to place her bet. Everyone around her gave a cautious look, probably thought she was crazy for risking that much, and to be fair, maybe she was. But this was going to be her night. She was going to save Pop’s… and maybe pocket some spare cash if her winnings allowed it. 

Her first roll of the dice gave her a seven, and her head was swimming. The group around the table cheered for her and suddenly everyone was getting real friendly. Alice figured that was expected when you just doubled an already hefty amount, people suddenly wanted to buy you drinks and schmooze. 

A little over $18,000 was what she was facing now. It was a lot. More money than she ever would’ve dreamed to see in her life… but it wasn’t enough. If she was going to help buy back the store then she needed more. Just one more round…

“I’m in,” she said confidently, holding her hand out for the dice. 

“Are you sure?” The question seemed to come from multiple people, but she just focused on the dealer in front of her and nodded her head. 

A little of her confidence seemed to shatter, however, once she was palming the dice again. Alice was used to taking risks. One could even say it came second nature to her, but generally she was the only one bearing the brunt of those risks’ impacts. This was something else entirely. This was larger than her. If this went south it would have far reaching consequences. But if this worked… she’d be a hero. She’d secure her job as well as all her friends’. She’d give Pop his livelihood back. That seemed to outweigh any bad. 

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, bringing the hand clutching the dice up to her chest almost as if in prayer. 

Now or never.

She opened her eyes and slowly exhaled, releasing the two small blocks from her hand. She watched them roll across the table. She had either suddenly lost all hearing or the room had gone silent. She was too focused on the outcome of this roll to care which it was. The tension was palpable. The once raucous group around her was waiting on pins and needles. Alice found herself mumbling “come on, come on, come on” under her breath. Did dice always take this fucking long to settle?

She wished it had lasted longer. 

Her brain didn’t even process what was happening at first. The dice had stopped. She could hear groans around her. Someone, maybe the dealer, telling her “Sorry.” 

It was snake eyes. 

Two ones.

The kiss of death. 

She had one job that night. Count the money, take it to the bank. Instead, she had just lost eighteen grand in no less than 20 minutes. 

She was screwed. She was beyond screwed. She was dead. Her throat felt tight. She was gripping the table with all her might despite the fact she felt completely numb. How was she supposed to explain this? How was she supposed to show her face at work tomorrow? This was bad. This was really, really bad. She was speechless, save for the one word that could sum this all up:

“Fuck.”


	2. Hey Pop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for what I'm about to make of Tom Keller in this fic... Please forgive me, Tom. Also, I don't care what the show says, Clifford is not the same age as everybody else you can miss me with that. Title of the chapter is from Hey Joe by Body Count (original song by Jimi Hendrix).

“Alice. Alice, wake up. Yo, Smith!” FP finally gave her a hard nudge at that seemed to do the trick. Alice jolted awake, almost spilling the bucket of quarters she somehow got from the casino the night before (her memory got a little bit hazy after the whole ‘losing 18k’ thing), and sent FP a death glare that would’ve scared off anyone else, but he had been on the receiving end of enough of them to know better. So long as Alice stayed on her bike he’d be safe.

“Why’re you sleeping on your bike, Al?” Alice turned to find Hal Cooper on her other side. Her face softened at the sight, and she let out a sigh. 

“Mistakes were made last night, Hal. Big, terrible mistakes. Promise me you’ll never go to Atlantic City.”

“Why were you in Atlantic-”

“You win anything?” FP, always straight to the point. 

Alice whipped her head around to glare at him again. “Does it look like I won anything?”

FP put his hands up in defense and laughed. “Jeez, calm down. It was just a question.” He looked over at Hal and widened his eyes like _get a load of this, huh?_

Hal rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly. Alice was clearly upset about something. He didn’t really think now was the time for the usual Jones-Smith bantering they were so infamous for. They could chew each other out later. “Alice, what happened last night?”

Hal was always so soft, so caring. It almost made Alice want to cave and confess, but no. There was no way in hell she was going to air this dirty little secret right now. She needed to get away, remove herself from the situation so she had some time to think about how to fix it. Or maybe she needed a head start so it would take Pop longer to find her and kill her. She’d decide later. 

She put her helmet on and kickstarted her bike. “If anyone asks, it was nice knowing you.” That was to Hal. Then she turned to FP. “You, not so much.”

And then she was off, speeding down the street to God knows where. Hal tried calling out to her, even ran out into the street but it was no use. Alice had made up her mind and she was gone. 

“What the hell could’ve spooked her so bad?”

“Oh come on, Hal. You can’t be that naive,” FP chided from the sidewalk. “Think about it. Alice was supposed to close last night. Alice went to Atlantic City last night. Alice was sleeping on her bike on the street after not winning anything last night…”

Hal’s eyes widened as he moved to join FP. “You don’t think…”

Hal couldn’t even finish his thought before the familiar sound of a 1962 Ford Thunderbird came roaring close. As Pop Tate came rolling to a stop, FP slapped Hal’s shoulder and whispered to him “Don’t say anything about Alice or last night.” 

Hal nodded in understanding. Then he turned to Pop, appearing as cheery and normal as ever. “Hey, Pop! How’s it going?” FP thought he was laying it on a little thick, but then again that was just Hal being Hal. Pop wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

“About as well as it could be,” Pop responded rather unenthusiastically as he passed the boys and made his way to the front door of the shop to unlock it and open for the day. Hal and FP followed suit. 

“Aw, come on Pop,” FP goaded. “You’re not excited about Tom Keller Day?” 

Tom Keller was the current teen heartthrob flooding the airwaves. He had just released a new hit album to go along with hit show he was starring in, The Family Way, and now he was touring across the country to promote. Nobody in the store, save for Fred, who happened to have a giant crush on the guy, particularly cared for Tom Keller, but Pop figured having him come in for a signing would be good business for the shop and that was good enough motivation for him.

“As excited as I’d be for a lobotomy, but what are you gonna do?” Pop opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for the two younger boys to enter. FP and Hal shared a look and snickered as they made their way inside. 

The phones started ringing almost immediately, but Hal and FP were too busy goofing around to pay attention, lost in their own little word as they bypassed the front register and headed towards the employees' lounge. Pop whistled behind them, snapping his fingers, too, to get their attention. “Hal, phone.”

“Right. Sorry,” Hal said sheepishly as he trotted over to the phone and answered. “Pop’s Record Shop. Open ‘til midnight, how can I help you?” Pop was on his way to his office when Hal stopped him. “It’s the bank,” he stated as he handed over the phone. 

“Hello? Yes, this is he. Well, that’s not right. It should be-”

A call came in on the other phone, which Hal quickly answered this time. “It’s the boss,” he whispered to Pop, hand covering the receiver. 

Pop hung up with the bank, telling them he’d call them back, and reached for the phone in Hal’s hand. Despite not being seen, he put on a fake smile to try and sell the illusion this was a conversation he wanted to be having. “Cliff! How are ya?”

Clifford Blossom was a young entrepreneur (by way of his wealthy family) who technically owned the record store Pop ran. The Blossom family had their hands in just about every business in Riverdale, and when it came time for Clifford to step into the family business and become a primary shareholder he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of his first endeavor being a measly old record store that was no doubt contributing to the decline of society. He had no interest in things such as rock and roll and as far as Clifford Blossom was concerned the place attracted nothing but degenerates. But he supposed he had to start off somewhere.

“Where’s the money, Tate?” Even standing a few feet away Hal could hear Clifford’s booming voice through the phone. 

“Stop yelling, Clifford…”

Hal ducked out. Yelling made him nervous and he didn’t trust himself around Pop right now given the knowledge he had about Alice and her newfound gambling habits. He scurried back to employees' lounge to meet with FP. “The shit’s hitting the fan,” he said as he came bursting in through the doors, glancing over his shoulder once to see if Pop was coming up behind him.

FP, who was currently sat at the desk placed up against the back wall, turned to face Hal and nervously drummed his fingers on the back of his chair. “Alright just… stay calm. Act casual.”

“Casual, right,” Hal nodded and looked around. He spotted a forgotten magazine on the floor and grabbed it. Not two seconds later Pop came flying into the room like a man on a mission. FP swung back around in his seat and pretended to be writing down something while Hal perched himself on the back of the couch and flipped through pages mindlessly.

Pop ignored them both, walking right on by to his office. FP and Hal exchanged their second look of the day.

Pop beelined for his safe. Maybe some signals got crossed last night. Maybe Alice mistakenly heard him tell her to keep the money in there instead of taking it to the bank. Maybe she just forgot. Benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty. 

He turned the lock on the safe, opened it, and found… nothing. No money. Zilch. Nada. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “Dammit… ALICE!” He slammed the safe shut and marched for the door, standing in its frame as he looked out to FP and Hal like a bull ready to charge. 

FP gulped, trying his best to come off as ignorant to the entire situation currently unfolding before him. “What’s wrong, Pop?”


	3. The Things You Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Thorn In My Side by Quicksand

Across town, Hermione had just pulled up in front of the Andrews’ residence and began incessantly honking for Fred to come out. The boy had a habit of being late, but she should’ve known today would be different. Fred came sprinting out the door in no time with his hands full, though Hermione couldn’t see with what. 

“It’s Tom Keller Day!” Fred beamed as he jumped into the passenger seat and handed Hermione a cupcake.

“What the hell is this?” She questioned as she brought the sugary treat up to her nose and sniffed. Fred wasn’t exactly known for his baking skills.

“Don’t worry. They’re store-bought.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Hermione laughed, licking off some frosting with the tip of her tongue before pulling her car back out onto the road. “So, about Tom Keller…”

“What about Tom Keller?” Fred was trying to play innocent, but even with her eyes still on the road Hermione could tell he was blushing. The whole crew was well aware of Fred’s immense crush on Tom Keller. Whether he was parading himself around singing the songs or quoting lines from that god awful TV show, Fred had a long documented history of pining after the guy. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, you know exactly what! You’ve been plotting this day out for months. You gonna give it up to him or what?” She glanced over and wiggled her eyebrows for effect. 

“I’m not giving anything up!” Fred argued. “I’m hardly a virgin.”

“You ever sleep with a guy before?”

“Well, no…”

“Then you’re basically a virgin. At least in this case,” Hermione countered, shrugging her shoulders. “Do you even know if he’s gay?”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna corner him and hope for the best?”

Fred tossed his head back and rubbed his hands over his face while stifling a groan. “This is a bad idea! This is a bad idea, right?” 

“It’s not a bad idea!” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Hermione reached over to bring one of Fred’s hands down away from his face. “You just have to stay confident. Know what you want and go after it. If you’re gonna be a slut you have to commit to it.” She threw that last part in to make Fred laugh, and when she glanced over at him she saw that it worked. 

“I’m gonna be a slut?”

Hermione let go of Fred’s hand so she could pinch his cheek in mock affection. They were currently stopped at a red light, so she could give Fred her full attention. “You’re gonna be the best slut.”

\--

“Pop! I need your advice.” 

Pop Tate was just coming out of his office, still on the hunt for Alice and any trace of his money, when FP approached him. “What is it, FP?” He really didn’t have time for this, or patience, but the place was small and he very well couldn’t just avoid the kid all the day. He also wasn’t about to halt his mission, either, so he kept searching around the lounge while FP babbled on.

“You know about love, right?” FP asked as he followed Pop to a back corner, watching him rummage through some drawers.

“My ex wife left me for another woman, and my girlfriend told me to leave at gunpoint. Does that count?” This was already a conversation he did not want to be having. Maybe if he moved around enough FP would get tired and leave... 

“I think so, yeah.”

No such luck.

“Get to the point, FP.” Pop had already made his way across the room, now looking through cubbies and stacks of papers. _Where the hell is the money?_

“Right, okay.” FP clapped his hands together, trying to figure out how he wanted to phrase this. He usually had a better handle on his nerves, didn’t always feel so jittery, but this was big. “You know how I’ve been working here for about 3 years…” Pop stopped his searching to give FP a look that suggested he needed to hurry up with his story before FP lost his attention. “Okay, okay, so… I’m thinking I should finally tell Fred I love him. Ya know, stop skirting around the issue?”

FP Jones had been in love with Fred Andrews as far back as Pop could remember, even back before they worked for him and were just a couple of goofball kids constantly coming in to the shop to check out the latest releases. Pop had seen it long before FP ever confided in him. Truthfully, everyone in the store knew. Except, of course, Fred. Pop suspected that contributed to FP holding off for so long on revealing his feelings. On any other day Pop would’ve been more than happy to give FP a pep talk and show some enthusiasm, but he was not in the right headspace right now. All he could muster up was a deadpanned “Congratulations, FP,” before going back to tearing the room apart and cursing Alice under his breath. 

FP continued on, completely unaffected by the lackluster response. “So how do I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Tell Fred I love him.”

“You say ‘I love you’.” He _really_ didn’t have time for this. What did the kid need? A manual?

FP nodded his head like he had never even considered such an idea. “Straight to the point. I like it.” He clapped Pop on the back before continuing. “I’ll tell him at noon. No! Noon-oh-one... 1:37 on the dot.”

Pop finally gave up his search. The money wasn’t here. God only knew where it was, but it sure as hell wasn’t in this building. He sighed, turning his head to look at the younger man beside him. “I’m happy for you, FP. Really. Maybe at least one of us can make something good out of this day,” he finished before walking off to his office. 

FP stayed behind, smiling bright. “Thanks, Pop.” He really felt like today was going to be his day. 

The sound of car doors slamming outside, however, pulled him out of his reverie. He peaked out the window and spotted Hermione and Fred making their way to the building and suddenly he remembered he had some particularly juicy news to share. It was no secret FP loved to gossip. It made him feel like a kid on Christmas morning, he got such a sick joy out of it. But he had to make sure Pop was out of earshot for this. The last thing he needed was for Pop to strangle him to death for not telling him about Alice’s newfound gambling habit. It would totally kill his plan to win Fred over later. 

So without wasting another second, FP bounded for the door just as the other two were about to come in, almost colliding with Fred. 

“Hey, FP.” Fred stumbled back a little just to avoid hitting FP head on, but he still looked pleasantly surprised to see him.

Fred’s smile was so big and bright FP got lost in it. All previous train of thought left his head and all he could come up with in response was a breathless “Hey.”

Hermione stood in the back watching the exchange and rolled her eyes, letting out a loud huff to get her point across. “If you two are done ogling each other, some of us actually have work to do.” She started pushing past the two boys in front of her and that seemed to bring FP back down to earth. 

“Wait, wait! I’ve got news for the both of you!” He grabbed hold of Hermione’s arm and started walking her further out and down away from the back door of the record shop. 

She looked down at his hand on her arm in disgust and pulled out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me.” She kept following him, though. Farbeit from Hermione to miss out on the latest hot gossip.

“Oh! Happy three year anniversary, FP!” Fred came up from behind holding out a cupcake with a big 3 candle on top and kissed FP’s cheek. 

That was more than enough to send FP back into lala land, a blush steadily creeping up his neck and face. “Oh, wow… Thanks Fred. I-”

“Oh for God’s sake, get on with it, Forsythe!” FP looked over at Hermione with a confused expression. Honestly, how this boy managed to tie his own shoes in the morning was beyond her, the dope. “The news you had… it better be good.”

“Right! The news!” FP licked some frosting off his hand before positioning himself in front of the other two. “So get this, you know how Alice was supposed to close last night?” Fred and Hermione nodded in unison. “Well… guess who ran off with all the money last night and gambled it away in Atlantic City?”

The looks on Fred and Hermione’s faces were comical. Eyes wide. Jaws on the floor. Part of FP wished he had a camera.

“Shut up!”

“No way!”

“I knew she would find a way to fuck it up.”

“Does Pop know?”

“No! And you can’t tell him. He’s been on the warpath all morning. It’s best just to stay clear.”

“And here I was thinking Tom Keller Day was going to be a snoozefest,” Hermione laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, Fred.”

“Yeah, well, just try to contain your glee over seeing the demise of Alice Smith so you don’t get us all found out, okay?” FP said as he started leading them back to the store.

“Have you heard from her at all?” Fred chimed in.

“Not since this morning before work. She took off.”

“Perfect!” Hermione was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “When she does finally show her face I’ll get a front row seat to the shit show.”

“You’re really getting off on this, aren’t you?” Fred questioned from Hermione’s side.

“Oh, absolutely. My whole day just started looking up.”


	4. Across the crowded floor, they worked from eight til four

The rest of the morning, for anyone who wasn’t Pop Tate or Alice Smith, went off without a hitch. Hermione and Fred quickly greeted Pop on their way in before following FP out to the front of the store to join Hal so that they could conduct their daily ritual of finding out who got to control the stereo for the morning. Hermione took out a bag of M&M’s and walked around to the other three to let them pick out a candy each. The game was this: whoever had the matching color to what Hermione picked out would get to decide the music that played over the loudspeakers. It was a coveted prize. They all took it very seriously.

“Okay, who’s got brown?” Hermione asked as she stood in front of everyone like some game show host. The others exchanged questioning looks, but no one spoke up. Hermione dug into the bag for a second time. “Alright, how ‘bout blue?”

Hal slowly rose his hand up, a childlike grin on his face as he accepted victory. This elicited groans from both Fred and FP. “Oh, come on! I call a redo!”

“Rules are rules, FP,” Hermione shrugged as she passed him by. “God knows we’ve had to suffer through enough of your loser rock.” FP responded by throwing his M&M at her, missing the side of Hermione’s head by a fraction of an inch. Without turning around to look at him, Hermione simply raised her middle finger in answer.

Hal was already eagerly off to the stereo, placing in his favorite copy of Barry Manilow’s greatest hits. The opening notes of Copacabana wafted through the store as everyone dispersed to go about their morning routines. There was coffee to brew, shelves to restock, dusting to be done, and for the most part everyone was happily bopping along while doing so. Even FP found himself begrudgingly humming a bar or two to himself, though he’d never openly admit it. He’d sooner die than confess to having an affinity for Barry friggen Manilow. 

He could only play along for so long, though, and when Copacabana ended and gave way to Can’t Smile Without You, FP decided to put his foot down. 

“Hey!” Hal protested as he watched FP walk over to the stereo and eject the CD. “You’re gonna waste your veto this early in the day?”

“I sure am.” FP didn’t even bother looking at Hal as he replaced Barry with AC/DC. “Listening to that shit will make you sterile.”

“Maybe I want to be sterile,” Hal mumbled as he sulked off. FP couldn’t help but chuckle even as he shook his head. He proceeded to pull a lighter out of his back pocket and placed the flame to the underside of Barry Manilow so he’d never have to listen to the damn thing again. Hal would forgive him… eventually.

The bell above the front door chimed, signaling a new customer, and Hermione could be heard greeting them from her place at the register. “Welcome to Pop’s Record- _oh._ Oscar, hi.” 

FP had never heard Hermione switch so quickly from bored and passive to sultry and attentive. It was half creepy, half impressive. He suspected some type of split personality disorder was at play. 

Oscar was Fred’s older brother. He was tall, charming, attractive… pretty much a walking Calvin Klein ad and all the girls in town drooled over him. Especially Hermione. She was too young for Oscar’s taste, but that didn’t stop him from flirting back with her every time he came in to the store or bumped into her around town. He was just being polite. Besides, he had heard she liked to keep her options open and had an on-again-off-again thing going with some kid named Hiram. This was all completely innocent.

“Hey, ‘mione.” Oscar swaggered over the register with that megawatt smile all the Andrews men were known for. It made Hermione’s knees go weak. He leaned on to the counter to get just enough in Hermione’s space that he could notice the stuttering in her breathing it caused. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my brother is, would you? I’ve got something important for him.” He dropped his voice to a husky whisper for added effect. 

Hermione honest to God giggled, and it took everything FP had in him not to throw up. From his spot by the stereo he could see the way she was propping herself over the counter, making sure to give Oscar a full view of her cleavage. FP rolled his eyes and spoke up, briefly interrupting lady and the tramp. “I’ll go get him.”

Neither Oscar nor Hermione seemed to pay much mind to FP as he made his declaration and headed to the back to grab his friend. 

Not even a minute later Fred made his appearance, FP trailing behind. “What is it, Os?”

Oscar finally pried himself away from Hermione’s forcefield and waved a rather large and thick envelope in front of his face as he approached his younger sibling. “Fate of your future’s in my hand, little brother. Cornell. And by the size of this thing I suspect it’s good news.”

Fred’s eyes went wide and he quickly grabbed for the envelope in Oscar’s hand, tearing at the seam and removing its contents like his life depended on it. It kind of did.

“Why Cornell?” Hermione asked as she moved out from behind the register to join the rest of the group. 

“It’s got one of the best architecture programs in the country,” was Fred’s response, his eyes never leaving the page.

Everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath as Fred read the page over and over, hoping he wasn’t imagining things. After what felt like minutes passed by FP tentatively spoke up. “Well… what’s it say?”

“I got in,” Fred whispered. Everyone’s ears perked up immediately, and they all seemed to lean forward in anticipation, wanting to make sure they heard him right. “I got in!” Fred was louder this time, a grin from ear to ear on his face. “I got in, I got in, I got in!” He threw his arms around Oscar and pulled him into a hug, the two of them jumping around and hollering in celebration. 

Fred let go and turned to find FP beaming at him with pride. FP’s arm were tight around Fred’s waist as he lifted his best friend off the ground, the two of them laughing like a couple of school kids. Fred ran his fingers through FP’s hair as he was placed back down and pulled him in for another hug. For a moment FP wanted to tell Fred everything right then and there. He’d never seen Fred so happy. It was electric. Captivating. Every ray of sunlight seeping in through the windows seemed to be landing directly on Fred, and he was absorbing it all. Selfishly, FP wanted to play some part in the happy moment, give Fred something else to smile about, but it wasn’t the right time, not with an audience present. 

Speaking of which…

Hermione squealed and grabbed the intercom mic to spread the good news to that morning’s customers. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention!” She was putting on her best newscaster voice. “It appears that our very own Fred Andrews has just been accepted to Cornell University. Can we give him a round of applause?” There was a spattering of clapping and cheering throughout the store which caused Fred to bow his head and blush. “So tell us, Fred. You’re a college-bound boy. How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Fred had been riding high on the news of his acceptance, but it seemed reality was starting to crash in on him. His face fell as he started really thinking about what was in store for him. Sure, this was what he had always wanted, but he’d never actually processed the fact that he’d had to leave home. Leave his family, his friends. Be on his own. Suddenly the future seemed overwhelming. “...like I’m gonna throw up.”

\--

Pop sat in his office, shut off from the rest of the store, leaning back in his chair with the heels of hands pressed to his eyes as he tried to stave off a headache induced from the chaos that apparently was his life. Finding Alice had been top priority, even if he didn’t want to see her out of fear of what he’d do once actually in a room with her. He tried to live his life as a calm, gentle person, but there was nothing calm or gentle about the way he felt losing an entire day’s worth of income. He was ready to call on a manhunt.

Pop was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a tapping at his door and was met with the sight of Hal peeking his head in once he removed his hands from his face. “What is it, Hal?” His tone was clipped, trying to convey the fact that he didn’t want to be bothered.

“Oh, um, I just thought you should know the lights on the roof are dead. Half the sign is out.” Hal was jittery and radiating nervous energy. He kept shuffling from one foot to the other, and he wouldn’t meet Pop’s eyes. Hal was terrible at keeping secrets. Everyone knew it. Pop knew it. And he especially knew it right now. 

Pop suspected FP had a rein on him earlier, but FP wasn’t around now. Hal was all alone. Pop had him. 

The older man sat up in his seat suddenly and beckoned Hal over with his finger. “Hal, come here.”

To be blunt, Hal looked like he was about to shit himself. He could feel a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He didn’t want to be alone with Pop any longer than necessary today, but he found himself taking a small step forward anyway. What was he going to do? Tell his boss no?

“Come closer, Hal.” Pop kept his voice even and soft. He knew it wouldn’t do anything to calm Hal’s nerves, but there was also no need to yell and cause a scene lest someone came running in and prevented Pop from getting the information he needed. Hal was the easiest nut to crack, but Pop needed to tread carefully.

Hal took another baby step.

“Hal, you wouldn’t have happened to have seen Alice this morning, have you?”

Hal gulped and shook his head. He was definitely sweating more now. It felt like his body temperature had risen 10 degrees in the last minute. “I- No. That’s- I would have said-”

“ _Hal…_ be honest with me.”

“I… She…” Hal tried holding out as long as he could. Really, he did. He tried thinking about how FP would surely kick his ass for not keeping it together. Tried thinking about Alice being disappointed in him for ratting her out. But Pop could be a pretty menacing guy when he wanted to be. And, oh did he want to be right now. 

He was locked in Pop’s stare, eyes boring into Hal’s soul, and he couldn’t get his legs to move no matter how hard he tried. They were at a standoff. A pretty weak one considering Hal was completely unravelling, and Pop knew he had won before gunshots were even fired. Hal was doomed from the minute he decided to come into Pop’s office. He could hear the bomb ticking down in his mind the longer the silence between the two went on, a slow torture in and of itself. Hal was the easiest nut to crack and well… he cracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of chapter taken from Copacabana by Barry Manilow. *blows a kiss to hal* Potentially the only chapter title that won't reference a song used in the movie but I mean... I had to. Also the song weirdly applies to the riverparents... Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave kudos and comments cuz it's my birthday on Sunday and you can say that's my present :) Oh and thank you to my wife Julia for helping me pick out Fred's dream college. Couldn't have done it without you lol


	5. Little Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Little Bastard by Ass Ponys (the 90s were a wild time for band names...although the band was formed in '88. Thanks Google)

Pop was finally getting somewhere in this little mystery show that Alice decided to play out this morning. He’d gotten everything he could out of Hal with minimal effort (he’s met walnuts that were harder to crack), and now he just needed to get his damn hands on Alice herself.

He comes stomping through the double doors, Hal sheepishly trailing behind, and does his best to keep a cool enough exterior as to not alarm any customers. From the corner of his eye he catches Hermione in a weak attempt of pretending to work, standing in one of the aisles checking herself out in a compact. 

“Hermione, get back to work.” He can’t deal with this today. He needs _some_ cooperation.

“Yes, sir,” she responds, and fortunately Pop’s too distracted right now to check if she’s actually listened. She hasn’t.

FP’s been generally minding his own business the rest of the morning, working the front register with Fred keeping him company. He’s just finished ringing up a customer when he feels two firm hands on his shoulders. 

_Well this can’t be good._ FP thinks to himself as he tenses up and looks straight ahead.

“FP, go find Alice.”

Maybe he can get out of this still. Claim plausible deniability. “Alice? Why would I-”

“I told him,” Hal speaks up, though his voice is shaky and he won’t meet FP’s eyes. 

FP sighs and lets his body go slack. No point in trying to keep up the charade. “Nice going, Hal.”

Hal shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched forward in shame as he walks away.

“Look, Pop, I don’t know where Alice i-” He turns to face his boss and is swiftly met with a particularly sharp jab to his shoulder.

“I don’t care what you know or don’t know. Find. Alice. And Fred?” 

Fred looks up from where he’s been sitting on the counter, eyebrows darting up in response. “Yeah, Pop?”

“Why are you even here? You’re not scheduled for today.”

“It’s Tom Keller Day,” is all Fred supplies.

Pop fixes him with a blank stare. “Of course it is. Just… cover for FP.”

Fred gives a salute and hops down from the counter to take FP’s place at the register. He playfully bumps FP out of the way with his hip, and the two boys exchange smiles.

Pop is already off making his way back to his office. “Hermione, work!” He shouts before disappearing behind the doors of the back room, and it’s enough to startle Hermione into dropping her compact and focus on stocking the shelves.

“How the hell am I supposed to find Alice?” FP complains. “Like I know where she is.” 

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll fall from the sky,” Fred offers.

“As if Alice would do anything to make my life simple.”

Fred gives a sympathetic shrug as FP heads off to God knows where to go find their renegade employee. He almost makes it to the employee lounge when he hears a thud behind him and freezes.

_No. No way…_

He spins around on his heel and sure enough there’s Alice, seemingly having fallen from the sky. She's still carrying the bucket of coins from earlier. 

“Alice, where did you-”

“The roof,” she says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“Pop’s been going crazy all day looking for you.”

“Well let him find me.” She stands with her arms spread wide. “I’m right here.”

“Are you high?” FP squints his eyes and looks at her for a second, trying to assess her mental state. She doesn’t _look_ high, but there’s gotta be some explanation for this sudden lapse in judgement. He looks over his shoulder quick to make sure Pop hasn’t noticed the commotion before grabbing hold of Alice’s arm and bringing her off to the side so they have more privacy. 

Alice immediately slaps his hand away, but moves nonetheless. “Don’t touch me, Forsythe. I’m not high. I’m just… enlightened.”

FP can’t hold back his chuckle. “Enlightened?”

“There’s a great big world out there, FP. Bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than this town. Don’t you want something more?” She slaps the back of her hands against FP’s chest. 

FP glances over his shoulder at Fred who’s busy ringing up someone, his best customer service smile on that he somehow makes seem like the most genuine thing in the world, probably because it is. Maybe Alice has a point. And isn’t that horrifying? “Okay, maybe,” he says, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to her. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

Alice runs her hands through her long golden hair. “I feel like I’ve just woken up from this fog, ya know? It’s like I’ve been walking this same route every day for my whole entire life and today I suddenly see this new side street, right? And I want to take it and see where it goes. And maybe it’s a dead end, ya know? But that’s not the point! The point is it’s new and uncharted and exciting and I want to explore! We’ve gotta take back our destinies, FP!”

FP’s looking at her like she’s grown two heads. “Oh... kay… So should I tell Pop you’re here or not?”

\--

_”You came along just like a song, and brightened my day. Who would have believed that you were part of a dream? Now it all seems light years away.”_ Hal’s singing along to the song in his head as he sweeps the floor, throwing in an occasional hip-wiggle or two-step. He takes firm hold of the broom in his hand and uses it as a mic, pushing his voice up an octave as he starts the chorus. _”And now you know I can't smile without you. I can't smile without you. I can't laugh, and I can't sing. I'm finding it hard to do anythi-”_

“HAL!” Pop bellows from his office. “Less singing, more sweeping!”

“Someone’s being a Mr. Grumpypants,” Hal mutters under his breath, but goes back cleaning the floor instead of his one-man show, reducing his singing to a soft hum. 

Pop has all of two minutes to enjoy the silence before he hears the double doors open and a distinctly female voice wafting through the room. “Good morning everybody!”

Hal stops dead in his tracks as he watches Alice - FP trailing not far behind - enter the lounge. This was going to be interesting. He glances over to Pop’s office and sees his boss already leaning in the doorway, and oh boy, if looks could kill Alice never would’ve stood a chance.

“Hi, Hal!” Alice smiles at him and tosses him a quarter, like she’s completely unaware how knee-deep in shit she is. Hal catches the coin and slowly raises his hand to wave his hello, but any chance of further pleasantries is killed before he has time to open his mouth.

“Alice, where’s my money?” Pop’s voice is stern but surprisingly calm given the circumstances. His arms are crossed over his chest, and Hal gets the impression he’s trying his best to control the simmering rage he feels, but there’s still the overwhelming feeling that a ticking time bomb is about to go off. 

“It’s in Atlantic City,” Alice replies, carrying the same nonchalance as if she’s telling Pop about the weather.

“What’s it doing in Atlantic City?” Pop pushes off the doorframe and slowly starts making his way towards the blonde. 

“Recirculating by now, I’d imagine.”

“Recirculating, of course.” Pop rolls his eyes up to the ceiling, hits the heel of his hand to his forehead, and laughs without any real humor. FP and Hal are stood in the back, exchanging a concerned look like they’re waiting for that explosion. Sure enough, Pop slaps the bucket of quarters out of Alice's hands, the sound echoing throughout the room as they scatter to the floor, causing everyone to flinch. “I had to lie to Clifford Blossom this morning and tell him you forgot to deposit the money! Now what do you think’s gonna happen when he goes to check the account later and finds it still empty!” His voice got progressively louder as he spoke.

“Pop, chill out. It’s gonna be okay-”

“Alice, I swear to God!” He has his hands up like he’s about to wring her neck, and he very well might have gone through with it had FP and Hal not sprung into action and placed themselves between the two.

“Woah, Pop,” FP holds up his hands in defense, “Let’s take a breather here.”

“FP, move.” Pop grabs hold of the neck of FP’s sweater and pulls him to the side, out of his way. 

“Yeah. Okay.” _So much for that plan,_ FP thinks as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Hal.” Pop doesn’t even have to touch Hal, just fixes him with a look so vicious Hal knows he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Yeah, I got it. Move.”

“Wimps,” Alice mutters before turning her attention back to Pop, though she’s taken a few steps back during this ordeal.

“And you,” Pop points a finger in Alice’s face, “Sit down, and don’t move.”

“I’m not a chi-”

“Sit!”

Alice promptly closes her mouth and sits down on the couch. 

“Do not, under any circumstances, move from that couch. Unless it’s to get me nine thousand dollars, and in that case, you get it, and bring it right back here. Got it?” Alice nods her head. “Good. And you two,” Pop turns his attention to FP and Hal, says “Get back to work,” and walks back to his office. 

“Hey, Pop?” Alice calls from her spot on the couch. 

Pop turns around in the doorway. “What, Alice?”

“I really think it’s gonna be okay.”

Pop sighs and runs a hand over his face. He has no energy left to argue, and if he did he was sure his day would end in handcuffs. He doesn’t even bother responding, just turns around and silently heads to his desk. He has paperwork to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos much appreciated :)


	6. Lovestruck Romeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a very brief allusion to self harm at the end.
> 
> Chapter title from Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits

“Hey, so, you and Fred hung out last night, right?” FP asks as he comes up behind where Hermione’s working at the register, ignoring the fact she’s in the middle of ringing up a customer.

“Yeah… why?”

FP comes around to her side, leans back against the counter and rings his hands because he’s too full of nervous energy to keep still. “What did you guys, like… do?”

Hermione flips her shiny, dark hair back and smirks. “Oh, you know, just went out on the town, grabbed some drinks, _grabbed some men_ , went back to my place, had ourselves a party.” She’s typing into the register with a perfectly manicured nail when she looks over at FP and sees the sullen look on his face. She rolls her eyes and gives him a playful kick to his boot. “God you’re so easy. Nothing happened. He ditched out early. Your boyfriend’s virtue is safe.”

FP’s hand immediately flies to Hermione’s mouth, and his head whips around to make sure no one, especially Fred, has overheard. There’s a matter of the costumer standing in front of them currently giving them a quizzical and rather judgemental look, but FP doesn’t count it as an immediate threat. “Jesus, Hermione!” He stage whispers as Hermione slaps his arm away. 

Trying to save himself from any further embarrassment, FP keeps his head low and walks off.

“You’re welcome!” Hermione calls out as she’s handing change back to the customer in front of her. She doesn’t see FP flip her off.

\--

It shouldn’t be this hard, he thinks, to just tell Fred how he feels. He thinks he’s mustered up the courage, finds Fred amongst a row of CD’s restocking, and feels like maybe he could say something now.

He stands at the end of the aisle, going totally unnoticed as Fred is lost in his own world, just focusing on making sure CD’s are being placed in alphabetical order. He’s humming along to the song playing over the speakers, his head bobbing along ever so slightly.

FP opens his mouth, has a vague outline of what he wants to say and… he chickens out. He can’t do this. Confessing his love in the middle of a record store isn’t his idea of romantic. 

Or, it could be, under different circumstances. Like if he wasn’t a coward, for one.

So he backs away, only to fall right back in place not a second later, and _God_ it’s ridiculous how fucking good Fred looks right now without even trying, without even knowing. It makes FP’s life a living hell on a daily basis, makes him ache in the worst way. If he could just _open his fucking mouth…_

But he doesn’t, and his shoulders slump as he sighs, resigning to the fact that he’s completely fucking hopeless and, quite frankly, a chicken shit, as he walks away for good.

\--

As Fred finishes stocking shelves he notices an overwhelming line forming at the register and heads over in an attempt to relieve Hermione.

He’s just finished up with a customer, sending him along his way when the phone rings. “Pop’s Record Shop. Open from eight to midnight, how can I help you?” Comes Fred’s cheery voice, and Hermione silently mocks him.

Fred sticks his tongue out in retaliation before saying “Hi, dad. Yeah, Ozzie already came by.” There’s a pause. Hermione’s curious nature takes over, and she glances at Fred just in time to see him deflate, his shoulders sagging as he looks to his shoes. “Yeah. I know, dad, I- Okay. Thanks. See you later.”

“What was that about?” Hermione asks once Fred hangs up.

Fred sighs, running a hand over his face. “My dad. He can never just be happy for me. I get into college and it’s straight into _You’ve got to take this serious, Fred. College isn’t a joke. You’ve gotta work hard if you want to be the best,_ ” he says in his best imitation of his father’s deep, surly voice.

Normally Hermione would find humor in Fred’s ridiculous impression of his father, but she can read a room. She reaches out and puts a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’m sure he’s still happy for you, Fred.”

“Yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it.”

Before Hermione has time to respond, the bell above the front door chimes, and the two employees are greeted by the sight of Mary Moore looking worse for wear. She’s never exactly been the most pleasant person, but today especially it’s like she’s dragging a rain cloud behind her.

That doesn’t stop Fred from being his usual chipper self despite the mood his dad’s left him in. Shaking off the last few minutes, Fred smiles bright and says “Hey, Mare! How’s it going?”

Mary flips him off as she passes the front counter and heads to the back. 

Fred’s smile falls. “She hates me.”

“She hates everyone,” Hermione supplies. “You just take it personally.”

\--

Mary enters the employee lounge, bypassing Alice on the couch and FP who, for some reason, is kneeling on the floor gluing quarters. She doesn’t want to know. She just walks straight through ‘til she reaches the bathroom and locks herself inside.

Alice and FP exchange a look, briefly wondering if maybe they should go check on her.

A decision is made for them when Pop comes out of his office a few seconds later and seats himself next to Alice on the couch. 

“Do you need money, Alice? Is that it?” Pop asks, genuine concern evident in his voice.

“What? No-”

“Because you could tell me, if you did. I would’ve helped you if you were in trouble.”

“Well, we’re all in trouble if you think about it. Mary’s in trouble. FP’s in trouble.”

“FP is not in trouble,” FP interrupts from his spot on the floor.

“Fred’s in trouble.”

“Fred’s not in trouble either. He’s going to Cornell.”

Pop takes a quick glance down at FP, considers yelling at the teen for ruining his floor, but decides he has bigger fish to fry. Besides, come the end of the day it’ll probably be someone else’s floor. “So what am I supposed to do here, Alice? The longer I go without reporting you to the police, the bigger an idiot I look. What am I supposed to say to Clifford? Just lie to his face?”

“That’s certainly an option…”

“Alice!” Pop yells, and Alice at least has the decency to flinch, look _a little_ worried about the predicament she’s put him in. Pop clenches his fist to hold on to any semblance of his sanity that may be left. “Alice,” he tries again, voice much calmer this time. “I swear to God if you’re screwing with me…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Alice gets the message loud and clear, as made evident by the way her eyes widen and throat works as she swallows. 

Pop stands up then, satisfied that he’s gotten through to the delinquent teen, at least for the time being. He turns his attention to the scraggly brunet on the floor. “FP, I need you to close tonight.”

FP stands up, looking very much put out. “But I opened!”

“Well, I need you to close.”

“I can close,” Alice offers. Pop glares at her. Clearly the entire lesson wasn’t learned.

FP breathes out a laugh, can’t help himself. “It’s fine. I’ll close. Could use the extra cash anyway.” Money had always been tight for FP, but it had gotten even worse once his dad kicked him out last year. His trailer wasn’t much, but it was cutting his pockets deep.

“Fantastic,” Pop says, and FP thinks he’s only being half sarcastic as he walks back to his office. “At least someone’s benefitting from this hellish day.”

\--

Mary can hear the whole conversation taking place right outside the bathroom door.

Well, she hears bits and pieces, doesn’t really focus on anything besides her own reflection in front of her. 

Last night had been rough. A culmination of days and weeks of bullshit piling on top of each other until she couldn’t take it anymore. Normally Mary was good at keeping a level head, but how far was a person expected to bend before they inevitably broke?

She needed a change. She needed a rebirth. She needed renewal. 

The bandages on her wrists serve as a reminder for what she had almost done, how last night there had been a chance she wouldn’t have been standing in this bathroom today.

She’s happy she stopped herself, she thinks. In the light of day she realizes she almost went a step too far, and maybe that wasn’t really what she wanted to begin with. She doesn’t really know what the hell she wants, if she’s being honest, but there’s better ways to find out.

She looks in the mirror now, runs a hand through the auburn locks she’s kept short since she was 12, and watches them frame her face as they fall.

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing. 

She grabs a fistful of her hair, stretches it out as far as it’ll go. Her other hand picks up a pair of scissors she has sitting in front of her on the sink. She maintains eye contact with her reflection the entire time, never missing a beat. 

Her hand lifts, the scissors getting as close to her scalp as they can. The corner of her mouth twitches up in the tiniest hint of a smirk, and, without blinking, she cuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos much appreciated and if you're reading this on April 8th, HAPPY REX MANNING DAY!


End file.
